Club Paradise

The curtains upstage swagged back and a troupe of six cheerleaders strutted onstage. They were in tiny red skirts with flimsy white tops tied around their waists, the same as Frank had seen on the poster outside. Full red bras underneath were defying the laws of physics. Red stripper platforms completed the look. They all had little differences in their accessories—the blonde with obvious falsies had big hoop earrings, the tall Black girl with crimped hair had bedazzled knee pads and a Korean hottie wore—of all things—an eye-patch.

The unseen drums beat out a vigorous tattoo as the cheerleaders spun and gyrated in a rehearsed Bring-It-On style routine, with plenty of stripper flair.

Midway through they made a pyramid and lifted the Korean girl up to the top. She pulled the ties of her flimsy white shirt and flung it aside before gracefully leaping down to the stage. The other cheerleaders followed suit and cheered now in their red bras and skirts. The bounce quotient was significant.

Then the drum cadence simplified into just a kick and a snare, a familiar 1-2 beat. A gritty vocal track cut through the air: "Come on feel the Noize! Girls rock your boys! We'll get wild, wild, wild!"

Guitars wailed in and the cheerleaders threw their pom-poms up into the air. The crowd down front cheered and threw singles up onstage.

"Wild, wild, wild!"

The girls pulled off their bras now and danced in just skirts and heels. Titties were everywhere, flying left and right and up and down, a variety of shapes and shades and shimmies but all appealing,

The guitar solo started, and the girls broke their formation, fanning out across the stage & down the runway. Each cheerleader played to two or so tables and got on their hands and knees, working the people in front.

Frank watched the Korean do a split in front of some guy who had a dollar rolled up in his mouth. She snapped her legs together, just missing his face but snagging the bill neatly between her knees.

Next to her, the blonde was running her implants all over some guy's face. The others were arrayed down the runway, plying to the bleachers. Above it all, the Black girl spun gracefully around the pole over their heads, her long supple legs stretched out.

By the drum breakdown, the whole room was singing along with the chorus: "We'll get wild, wild, wild!" Frank joined in, too—he was juiced. It was fair to say that the girls had indeed rocked their boys.

As the song came to an end, the cheerleaders stood up and began to collect their clothes, still shaking and shimmering.

"Are you not entertained?!?" the DJ thundered over the end of the song. "They're coming to cheer you up, guys; show them some love!"

Naturally, "School's Out" by Alice Cooper followed on the playlist, and the cheerleaders strutted off the stage, pulling on their bras and uniforms, and began to work the room.

The blonde with the big hoop earrings skipped right up to meet him. Her impossibly firm D-cup tits were back inside the red bra, showcasing smooth round cleavage that did not bounce when she cheered. It was great looking cleavage, though.

She waggled her pompoms at her sides and flashed a thousand-watt smile at him.

"2-4-6-8! Don't you think my legs look great! Yaaaaaayyyyyy!"

Then she spun away from him and bent at the waist. She was twirling her pom-poms in front of her now, but she was really showing him an upskirt. Her white panties matched her cheer uniform, but he could see the red thong he saw during the show underneath.

"Hi! I'm Kayleigh!" She gushed at him. "I saw ya in the bleachers while we were cheering. You want a dance? It'll pep up your school spirit!" This with a giant wink.

"Sure Kayleigh—I'd love that." He told her. The first touch of the first dance was always thrilling to him.

Kayleigh took his hand and pulled him away from the bar. He grabbed his drink and followed, familiar with the ritual.

All around the room there were armless plush leather couches lined up against the wall, where the lighting was more shadowy. There were small round cocktail tables every six feet or so. It looked to Frank like about half of the available seating space was occupied by women doing private dances.

There was always a mix of sitting & talking versus writhing & smushing of bodies in this part of a club, but Frank thought he could see more talking than usual.

Kayleigh ably steered him to a more sparsely occupied section that still offered a good view of the stage, playfully pushing him down onto the couch when she got him there.

Frank put his cocktail on the round table nearest him and leaned back.

Kayleigh did her cheerleader thing again, twirling the pompoms and saying "2-4-6-8! Use me while you masturbate! Gooooooooo Baby!"

Then she shucked the pompoms to the floor and untied her shirt. The red bra underneath was perfectly round and the breasts they contained were shaped the same.

She leaned past him and out her hand on the couch back behind him. Her bra pushed into his shoulder, her tits springy underneath.

"So!" she burbled excitedly, playing her character. "Is this your first time here?"

She stood back up again, and then turned to show him her ass, the skirt flipped up on her back as she touched her toes. She was wearing two pairs of panties, but both of them must have been extremely thin, because he could see a definite cameltoe.

"Yes." he answered. "I've been to Vegas before, but never to this club."

She looked at him upside down from between her legs. Her hair touched the floor.

"Oh yeah?" She asked. "You been to any of the other clubs here?"

"A couple. Most memorably the Rhino a year or two ago."

"That's a good one," she admitted. "But you're gonna love it here, even more."

"I'm getting that sense."

She didn't reply right away, and danced through a few of the classic stripper combos—the down-front slide, the sitting lean-back, the usual.

"You know, I'm breaking you in gently, with a little old-school dance style."

She swirled her hair before continuing, and put her hands on his legs.

"But usually, the girls here offer a more, let's say, 'character-based' or 'fantasy-driven' frictional experience. It's our 'house specialty', if you will.

"What, uh, precisely does that entail?" he asked, without thinking that over. He knew you didn't talk openly about what went on in places like this.

Kayleigh didn't answer. She just kept dancing in front of him, considering.

"You know what? You..." she bopped him on the nose playfully, "...are gonna have much more fun discovering that on your own."

"So, I'm not going to take up your time right now. Get out there and hang with a few of the other girls here. See what we have to offer."

The song ended, and Kayleigh pulled back. She smiled her Disney smile again, and pulled on her white top, tying it up underneath her bra.

Frank fished out a twenty, handing it over. She slipped it into her cleavage and then, thanking him, walked back to the club interior.

Frank sat back and adjusted his pants.

The Cure's "Lovecats" had picked on the sound system, staying in the 80's but creating a more sophisticated vibe than the arena rock.

Up on the stage, the Korean girl who had been in the cheerleader squad was coming on again, this time dressed as a preppy. The eyepatch was gone, and she had a pink blazer on over a silver sparkly bra. Her tan skirt had a slit that went all the way up, showing the tops of her white thigh-highs, and her shoes were tan platform pumps with pink bottoms.

Frank watched her work through her moves: first the blazer came off, thrown upstage with dramatic flair. The guys down front really liked that. Then she unfastened her bra as well, but was holding it over her breasts, teasing the crowd.

At that moment, the doors beside the stage opened and out came a pair of girls dressed in goth punk style. Frank forgot about the stage altogether.

The dirty blonde in front was in a jangly leather jacket and big-hole fishnets. There was ink up and down her legs under the mesh, and her Doc Martin's had 4-inch platforms. Underneath the jacket was a tight, slashed wifebeater, with a blue bra showing underneath. Her eyeshadow was rich red and her lips were darker red, almost blood red.

Just behind her floated an absolutely angelic Kat Dennings lookalike—a divine vision of jet black hair, pale white skin, blood-red lips under blue-shadowed eyes, fine cheekbones, chest for days.

And those eyes! They were shock sapphire blue. They practically glowed in the dark. Frank couldn't tell if they were natural or if they were contact lenses. He couldn't stop staring at her.

Her eyes were captivating enough that his gaze went to them first, instead of straight to that stupendous rack.

She had on a thin blue shirt, with bare midriff, stretched to the breaking point over her large, luscious tits. She was wearing a half-cup black bra—he could see it through the blue fabric—but above it her cleavage rippled & shook as she moved.

Her black-and-white plaid schoolgirl skirt didn't cover much, and long, smooth, curved legs disappeared downward into a pair of silver stripper platform heels.

Frank was blindsided by this pale angel, and knew immediately he wanted to get a dance from her.

As they walked past his table, he raised his glass and said, "Hi."

He was not at all prepared for what happened next: the blonde in the lead stopped and turned to him, taking in his outfit.

"What the fuck you lookin' at, nerd?" she snarled, and then bent down towards Frank and got right in his face.

"You think you can handle us?" Her black painted lips brushed against his as she spoke, nicotine on her breath along with a distinctly more feminine scent.

"No, of course not." She slapped his face, lightly, and then stood up again. "You're too much of a nerd."

Frank was overwhelmed with a mix of feelings, surprise & anger & desire, but he looked past the blonde, at her pale friend.

The other woman saw him staring and met his gaze with her own. Frank felt like he was tripping out on her electric blue eyes, falling deep into their seductive whirlpool.

She let him stare for a moment, and then rolled her eyes visibly and said, "Lame."

She looked at him with a look of disdain that instantly brought back memories of his own high school experience, decades old.

Frank's cock just about tore through his trousers. He wanted her as bad as his awkward teenage self had ever wanted anyone.

No stripper had ever treated him like this. It just made him want her even more.

He was used to the faux seduction routine—that was one of the things he liked about the clubs. He wasn't the best-looking guy, but in a strip club, that didn't matter. Gorgeous beauties treated him like he was Brad Pitt if he was in a strip club, oozing charm and desire. He knew it was all fake, but it worked—it stroked his ego in a way nothing else did, and of course where his mind went his dick wasn't far behind.

But this girl—she had taken her perfection and denied him.

Holy fuck that's hot, he thought to himself. Surely, she would dance with him if he asked. Frank wasn't good at asking. That's why he liked clubs—in here, the girls asked him. But she was worth making the effort for—

But they were gone, moving in down the couch line towards a pair of Wall Street looking guys in suits.

The DJ started spinning "Young Americans" by David Bowie, and Frank nodded unconsciously with the beat, fixated on the movement of their swaying skirts as they walked. He watched them come on to the businessmen, acting very differently than they had with him. They were laughing, flirting with these guys.

Still watching the goths, he adjusted his pants and pushed his cock back flat against his leg, and then took off the fake glasses and the pocket protector. The whole "nerd" thing wasn't working out quite like he expected. With just the blazer he could say he was a teacher if anyone asked.

He was looking down, stashing the vape pens into his jacket pocket, and didn't notice when someone walked up to him.

"Hi, mister!"

He snapped his head back when he heard a high-pitched voice right in front of him

A lithe little Latina stood there, all of five feet tall. Her dark straight hair was bound up in two high side pigtails, and she had on black frame glasses. Her eyeshadow was yellow and silver, and her lipstick was bright baby pink.

She was in paperthin white yoga pants, with red panties clearly showing underneath and a baby blue micro t-shirt that said "sweetheart" in white cursive letters. Despite her small breasts, there was a bra under that shirt, outlined by the flimsy fabric.

She looked absolutely mouthwatering, a perfect combo of innocence and flirtatiousness.

"Hi, I'm Harmony! What's yours?"

Frank started at that—this girl totally reminded him of someone he had seen recently online.

"I'm, uh, Frank - wait, are you...an actress?"

She did not look surprised by the question. "If you mean, am I Harmony the porn star you jerk off to, the answer is no."

She made an exaggerated pouty front face.

"But I totally look like her, right? That's why I picked Harmony as my stage name. It also lets me find out early who the real perverts are!" She gave him a big wink. "My friend Kyler did the same thing."

She pointed towards another waif-thin girl a few tables away. Kyler was mid lap dance, her long straight hair whirling around as she sat on someone's lap. Her shirt was off and Frank could see her pert, puffy B-cups jiggle with her movements. She looked like five feet of absolutely adorable trouble.

"We're actually friends in real life! We started together."

"Aaaaannnyyyyway." She bit her lip cutely for a moment after that.

"I wanted to tell you that you look just like my father's friend, Mister James. Like, under the jacket I mean."

"I thought maybe I could give you a dance and tell you all about it?" It wasn't exactly a question, but her voice went up at the end.

For the time being, Frank was hypnotized. The goth girl in his immediate memory took a backseat to the petit sweetheart in his lap, looking up into his eyes. She smelled so fresh.

"For sure, Harmony. I'd love that."

She slipped down all the way onto Frank's lap and flung her arms around his neck.

"Ok. Where were we?"

"You were going to tell me about Mr. James."

"Oh yeah." Her smile grew to the edges of her face.

"I've known Mister James my whole life. He was a business associate of my Daddy. My daddy can be a little gruff sometimes, but Mister James was so nice. He would always look at me and smile. It looked so good on him."

While she was talking, Harmony's leg was shifting up and down, pushing her body back and forth against his. Her face came in so close to his that their noses brushed.

"You have a nice smile, too!" She beamed at him. "I want to just eat it up!"

Her tongue flickered out of her mouth and brushed against Frank's lips. Endorphins surged up his spine and he shivered.

A look of smug satisfaction came over Harmony's face, and she pulled back a little. She slowly spun in his lap, sliding her ass around his crotch. When she was facing away, she bent down to touch the floor, and then stood up. The action lifted her skirt covered ass right up to his face.

She reached around and started playing with the skirt fabric, flipping it up and around, showing off her baby-blue thong.

After wiggling around for a minute, she pushed backwards as she sat back down, dragging her butt down his chest. She was on his lap again, leaning back to sing the Bowie's quoted Beatles line right into Frank's ears.

"I heard the news today, oh boy!"

She nuzzled down into his neck, and then pulled back to face him.

"I think Mister James would want me to sit on his lap, like this. Do you think he'd like it? I think you like it..."

She grinned naughtily, then took a deep breath and opened her mouth to continue.

But just then the David Bowie began to trail off.

"Oh, sounds like that's the end of the song, Frank. Do you want to get another dance?"

The effervescent plunkiness of Fine Young Cannibals "She Drives me Crazy" picked up, matching his pounding heartbeat.

"S-a-sure." Frank stammered and nodded.

"Good boy."

One of her hands came up and she began to stroke his cheek with her index finger.

"The thing about Mister James, is that in the last year or so, now that I'm in college, he's been looking at me a little different.

The finger wandered down to Frank's lips.

"His gaze lingers on me when my Daddy isn't watching. He thinks I don't know how much but I always do. And sometimes..."

Harmony's finger probed its way between Frank's lips. He opened his mouth, and she pushed her finger inside. Her leg was still sliding rhythmically up him.

"Sometimes I tease him a little. I may look innocent but I'm a bad, bad girl!"

A few tables over, Kyler finished up with her customer and pulled her tight stretch top over her shoulders.

Past Kyler he could see the goths with their customers. The tattooed one was bent at the waist, shoving her ass in her man's face and wiggling it. The other one, the pale angel who captivated him, she was facing her man, slathered all over him. Her shirt was on the couch next to them, and Frank could see a pair of angel wings tattooed on her bare white back.

She was either kissing him or pushing her amazing tits into his face, and the thought of either one gave Frank a thrill.

The man's hand was squeezing her ass like it was a stress ball. Her skirt had been flipped up to reveal a pair of shiny hot pink panties, with tiny little black skulls all over them. He had two fingers under those panties, and Frank watched the outline of his knuckles distort the smooth pink fabric as he groped her perfect body. Those fingers were probably all the way up inside her -

He snapped back to the girl in front of him when she called across the room to Kyler.

"Baby!" Harmony's high voice was just barely audible over the music, but Kyler heard. She sashayed over and stood before them.

"I was just telling Frank here about Mister James. Do you remember when we were back home on summer break? You came over to use the pool and Mister James was there?

"Oh, yes." Kyler's eyes lit up with excitement. "We had on nothing but our teeny, tiny little bikinis."

"They were so small. Just strings, really."

"Can you imagine that? Our little bodies out in the bright sun, wearing scandalously small swimsuits. They were like this."

Harmony gestured up at Kyler.

"Baby, show him your panties."

Kyler straightened her back up, eyes beaming with pride, and she pulled up her little skirt with both hands.

She was so thin that Frank could see her 'bikini bridge' hip bones clearly above the skirt band, and her thigh gap was prominent. He could probably lay three fingers side-by-side in that gap. Or one cock, he thought, salaciously.

Her thong was white with a hot-pink border. There was a picture of a pair of cherries in the middle. It almost glowed against her fine smooth skin.

"That day, her bikini bottoms were cut like this," Harmony said earnestly.

She traced her finger up the edge of the thong. Kyler moaned, and visibly shivered.

"This part was covered."

She ran her finger up the very middle of the shiny thong, pausing over the cherries to scratch around for a moment.

Kyler squeaked like the Pillsbury Doughboy and Frank saw a shiver run through her little body.

"But this part..." Harmony slipped her finger under the fabric a centimeter and ran it back down again. "This part was exposed."

She pulled her finger out and held it up in Kyler's face. Kyler sensuously licked the tip. Then she dropped it, and Harmony turned back to face Frank.

"So, you can see why Mister James might have been distracted."